


Wandering Thoughts

by credensjusitiam



Category: Bourne (Movies), Bourne Series - All Media Types, The Bourne Identity (2002)
Genre: Character Thoughts, Deleted Scenes, F/M, First Time, Implied Sexual Content, Marie centric, Not Beta Read, POV Female Character, Romance But Not Particularly Romantic, Set During Bourne Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/credensjusitiam/pseuds/credensjusitiam
Summary: Marie's mind finds itself wandering as she stands there in on the tiled floor as she's supposed to be dressing for the long day ahead.
Relationships: Jason Bourne/Marie Kreutz
Kudos: 3





	Wandering Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Another spontaneous fic, another not beta-read fic. This is supposed to be a deleted scene but it reads as if it's a character ramble. I'm trying to figure out the exact dynamic that is Jason/Marie as a relationship because I don't think it's anything particularly sweet or traditionally romantic. I didn't get any answers from writing this but it was kinda run pouring words and ideas out.
> 
> I'm still working on other things, things with plots but they are slow going at best. 
> 
> This is movie-verse and not book related.
> 
> I do not own anything.

Marie had felt her face beginning to warm as she turned and walked towards the bathroom leaving the increasingly familiar form of the man she's been calling Jason watching her with some amusement. 

His grip had been surprisingly gentle when he had begun to cling onto her. Though, the woman could easily admit now that the morning sun had long since risen on the city and had long since flooded the dingy, cluttered motel room, that everything about him had been more gentle than she could have anticipated. At first, it had been like he was watching her reactions, a little unsure, and trying to piece together what it was the woman standing in front of him was trying to do. He merely stared at the first gentle brush of lips, the only sign that he gave that he realized something had happened was a small sound - one that she was sure was from confusion and even some surprise - and Marie had realized that maybe she had made just one more mistake in the long list of mistakes she had made in her life when that thought had suddenly ended up cut short before she could even make any guess of where this decision may have landed - everything had become a blur as soon as his face had started to get close other. A blur made of up of kisses and feeling of hands grabbing at her while she felt a little chilly from her wet hair and her nearly bare shoulders in the coldness of the tiled bathroom. 

At first, she winced as his nails dug in but had noticed and his grip became softer, almost too soft as if he had felt her wince and realized that he had been a touch too harsh, and she felt herself responding with placing her hands on his sides with a grip that was neither unable to hurt the man in front of her but was close to how she liked to be touched. She liked knowing that she was being held even if was only one arm around her and reaching towards her lower back as the other hand stayed cupped around her jaw as she had been pulled into what must have been the dozenth kiss. They only pulled away to remove the few pieces of clothing that had been on them by the time they were working on changing Marie’s hair color - his sweater had long been discarded the floor (next to the small garbage can) and Marie had taken her layers minus the long black shirt and her tights to keep them from becoming covered in hair dye. They had been tossed into the other room on the floor as Jason pulled the box out of a small paper bag. The water had been freezing and she shivered as he started to wash her hair.

Almost instantly, he must have felt her move, he quietly asked, “Does it hurt?”

“No, the water’s cold. It…. other than that… feels good.” The latter words were soft, almost impossible to hear.

But he had paused at that response and then continued to move wordlessly.

Those words had been met with silence but she could tell he was watching how he touched her hair and she had wondered if he was 

It had been disappointing when the scissors came out and she could only watch as long strands fell to the floor and as he roughly gathered more of her hair to cut. But that moment had quickly passed.

On and off she could feel the beginnings of thoughts of words starting to form as things continued to escalate. As soon No words or thoughts ever fully formed and her body had started to move on its own, merely reacting to each kiss. She felt eventually being gently carried into the other room and placed onto the ancient bed. The covers had been almost clumsily knocked onto the threadbare carpeting before he lied her down onto the bed. She had squirmed out of the skirt and both are taken turns taking the tights she had been wearing off. They pulled away from each other, reluctantly, as she removed the last piece of clothing still on her and Jason had started on pulling off his pants.

“Is this okay?”, she had asked leaning forward, gently brushing his lips with her own for a moment before trying to add a quick, “We don’t -”.

He had only leaned into her, gently pushing her down onto the bed.

That had been more than answer enough.

Throughout the beginning hours of the evening, it felt as if whenever things had begun to settle down there would be around brush of the hand or the briefest glance and things would quickly pick up as they had started. There was no talk. Just the movements of one’s hand as it reached towards the other’s face, lips locking gently, and then the room felt as if it melted away. They only ever pulled away to catch their breaths and sometimes Jason took cautious steps to take a quick glance out the window if it sounded as if a car was driving a tad too slow, but he about he always returned to the bed just as quickly as he left. He had not seen anything that he had believed to be worth worrying about, but while Marie felt her eyes shutting she could see he was watching her carefully and with a mixture of concern and interest.

“Are you tired?” His eyes said.

“I’m okay.” Was what she answered with through a slight shake of the head.

The cycle would repeat moments later.

And again.

Then once more.

Marie couldn’t even begin to guess when it was that she had fallen asleep but she had thought that he had begun to snooze himself around the time she had really begun to finally feel the day’s events hit her. The other rooms had long gone quiet, the sounds of people stumbling home from the nearest bar had begun to fade away minus a few stragglers, and even the cars had stopped passing by minus a taxi or two. Marie had been lying looking at the low ceiling before turning onto her side and towards a small but particularly bright light. She thought she had seen the clock read 1:00 from across the room, but the light was dim and the clock had been plugged in from the farthest corner of the room. She had barely been able to see from the time the sun had gone down for the day - another reminder of how she hated the winter months, it was nearly always dark - she had been thinking about that as her eyes began to shut. 

“Living in a place where it gets cold and dark was a mistake.”

The last thing she heard was a slightly amused sound before entering the darkness.

Speaking of mistakes? Or rather she knew it would be accurate to change that to things she knew she should call mistakes? She wondered where this would even have placed if she had decided to undertake the nearly impossible task of listing them and ranking them by seriousness or by how foolish they were. She bet it would be near the top. Taking the money from him probably ranked first, it had certainly led her to a place she wasn’t sure she had any business in, but kissing the same stranger was likely in the top ten since things like that tended to always be interconnected. That had been the thought in her mind. She wondered just how fucked she was that her reaction after nearly dying (maybe even twice - her life certainly flashed before her eyes (and ugh at ever dying her hair as it had been until last night) as the mini had gone zooming down an old set of stairs. And she was sure at one point that a bullet was going to hit her when she dived away from the direction of gunfire within that ritzy apartment) was to kiss the source of all the trouble.

As soon as she realized her thoughts had wandered that far away from where they began she had shaken her head.

It was funny, though, he always walked as if he had some sort of purpose and she had not even thought about it before making a frown at this steps which were both quick and made with long strides, something she had struggled to catch up to at first, but that was or it was something that had felt very normal. She had known and seen a good many people who moved like that (usually businesspeople or those who had a usually undeserved sense of importance or believe themselves to be on a schedule of some sort) - Eamon walked like that the few times they had ever been in a public setting, she remembered his short tone as he called her to catch up. But, it was almost like even when she had no idea what he thought he needed or wanted (hell did he even know himself) he was moving as if he knew what his next step was supposed to be. But, whenever they were both stuck in a room together his movements became a little more uneasy. He had almost seemed afraid to touch her at one point but had applied the hastily bought boxed hair dye much like someone who had done it countless times. He even knew that he was to dye first then cut. 

“Right…”

She made a face the mirror at the reminder of the haircut. He had not just cut it, he had completely hacked chunks of it off leaving something that looked like she once did at the age of ten. Without thinking her hands moved to the sticking up strands, causing her new outfit to tumble onto the tile floor. Nothing was even. It was fixable, but it would take time to fix it. 

“Maybe I can clean it up tonight?”

She sighed and then bent down to carefully pick up the fallen clothes.

He was someone unusually skilled, sure, he was good at driving like a race car driver and could apply hair dye and probably could do it while reciting many poems in as many languages (not that she could see him doing it, he seemed like the type who would get shy at having to do such a thing) - but he was certainly not anything special at cutting hair. Though, she couldn’t remember the last time a hairdresser was able to stab another human being with a discarded pen either. But, he had been so good at the rest of the job he did. He even knew to go for a darker dye to easily cover her red and blonde strands as trying to go for blonde would have taken hours to do properly not leave her with a bald spot or two. He had been deadset on going lighter at first before their quick trip into a local pharmacy. Especially when he had become aware that she had not been blonde for a number of years. She could hide a bit more easily with that and a cut. She would look “different” he had in her ear. The only pictures they were aware of them having of her were the ones from the security camera But he had mentioned that he needed her to look different than before. Maybe it had been somewhat on purpose? She made a face. That almost made her feel better but it was still disappointing to know she would be stuck trying to grow out her hair. She wondered if she should have suggested he just buzz it all off in the first place. The thought had crossed her mind while they were checking into the hotel, but she had not been able to even say a word besides the occasional “okay” in response to a question or two that 

Though, with how everything was going, maybe she didn’t quite need to worry about trying to fix that particular problem after all. 

If yesterday was made up of someone trying to murder them both and then the authorities chasing them through the streets? What would today bring? 

She could hear him beginning to move around in the room proper. He was likely wiping everything done for - she wasn’t quite sure if it would have been the second time, he seemed to have been up for hours now - but if he was being honest than he had already wiped the room and all it’s surfaces down so she decided to just go with making this the second time. She felt her eyes falling to the clothing that she had gathered up and realized that she had needed to hurry with getting ready. She supposed that her sleeping in meant that getting a shower was out of the question than she frowned into the mirror. The dye alone meant she would need to skip that for the day and she winced as she reached for a lone remaining washcloth and began to try to wash her neck and face. If she was careful and rushed, she would likely wash up sufficiently and at least feel a little less grimy. That would help if they were going to be running around all day in the middle of the city and at least the clothing now sitting on the sink was at least brand new. They looked to be high end. They were probably straight from some designer boutique - the kind that she liked periodically glancing in the windows at, but never was able to kid herself into going inside of. Then there was the fact that the sizes appeared to be the correct ones. 

She quickly began to scrub herself using the harsh and cheap soap bar sitting nearby and the lukewarm (she knew she couldn’t wait for it to become properly hot) water coming from the facet. Her eyes moved over to the clothing now loosely hanging off of a haphazardly hanging towel rack, the one she had taken the washcloth from, she refused to look at the still attached tags for longer than a glance. But, she had recognized the name that was on them. They were definitely high-end clothes. They cost more than everything else she had ever owned. She wondered if they were better made than what she had lost, if they were made to last or if they would fall apart after a year of use.

Then she raised her eyebrow as another question entered her mind.

What time did high-end stores even open and did they close? Were they open all night to those who had cash and a need? She wondered if he would answer her if she asked. If she even wanted an answer to those questions. Did he make an appointment? Didn’t stores like that do that for wealthy clients? Maybe he stole them? Did he break-in, then grab a fair amount of things, and leave some money behind? Based on everything else that would be the least of their problems in this moment. Had he gone out while she was sleeping? How did he not manage to wake her up? She could sleep deeply, sure, but she had always woken up in the past when someone she was sleeping with had climbed out of the bed they were both in. Had she woken up and just quickly conked back out?

But, he hadn’t had to worry about her in that way? She could have handled getting clothes for herself in the morning. There were a few thrift stores that she knew about, one was close to her if she had remembered correctly. She could have probably found a few things that would have worked for weather without even trying.

“This stuff is nice…really nice,” she muttered with an unsure tone, “Maybe I shouldn’t use it and take my chances? Wouldn’t I stand out dressed like I have money?”

She became aware of how silly that sounded before the last word left her mouth and she started to laugh softly. 

“Heh, what am I saying? People with money are the only ones who aren’t noticed unless they have too much of it.”

But, it wasn’t exactly possible to go running around Paris in the middle of December in shorts and a t-shirt. Her other clothes were also likely being used as a note for what she looked like - someone would likely notice them. Maybe. She wondered how many people in Paris honestly paid attention to wanted posters or news reports about being sought for crimes. Maybe she looked just different enough, but there wasn’t much she could do in unseasonable outfits beyond a few errands. She had been planning before everything had gone so wrong on taking the money and trying to crash at Martin’s place (if he would even allow her - they were far from close these days, if ever, and he always had something to say about her life) while she looked at her options. Maybe she could try Greece again? She had done alright there for a while. She had thought that could get a job at one oceanside store or cafes and was excited knowing that this time she could afford a decent apartment.

Of course, life always had a way of blowing up in her face. She really should have seen such a good payday having so many strings attached - the kind that could take one’s head from their shoulders.

Even if she could just toss her clothing from the day before on or keep her nightclothes on, there was one more problem. Her pleather jacket was also not the warmest thing to wear and couldn’t do much to shield her from the cold either and if they were going to be looking around the city for some sort of answer or clue or direction to take there was the very real chance they would be out all day and maybe even all night. If it started to snow, she definitely would start to freeze or if it rained, it would do little to protect her from becoming soaked to the bone. Also, she had no idea where they were going to go. If they wandered into another nice place like that upper-class apartment that he had apparently lived in (though it felt lifeless for someone’s home) she could easily draw attention in such an old thing. It was battered to hell and back from years of traveling between countries and from having to use it nearly every day from October to April during that time. It had been a spur of the moment purchase. She had needed a jacket after leaving Germany in the dead of summer and being a broke teenager, she had not been thinking of comfort or cost or quality (not that she still did though she was getting better at noticing details like that) but thought that it had looked cool. That it had suited her.

It had.

She supposed that wouldn’t be enough of a reason to be able to hold onto it after all this.

Marie began to carefully undress out of the pair of shorts and the t-shirt that she had managed to salvage from her now abandoned belongings. She had started with the shirt which as soon as her nose had brushed against the fabric she felt herself begin to wince. It reeked of both dye and sweat and she quickly tossed it away from her. She wondered if the pillow she had ended up favoring while she slept also smelt like cheap dye and why she had not seemed to notice the strong scent until just now. It wasn’t like it was the first time she had changed her hair in the middle of the night, but something about this felt different and for some reason, everything about the color, how the fair felt along with the length, and the damned smell of dye felt different. She tugged at a strand of dark brown hair again and made a face in the mirror. All of it happened, of course. She could rule out that she was dreaming everything up. Though, she had tugged and brushed at her hair since the night before, and nothing changed about it. His hands had even run through it and nothing all that crazy had resulted - though, sex was something that someone out there would argue fell under that particular descriptor - but she had meant something more like waking up in Zurich with the multicolored hair that she had regretted the second she had wasted an entire day off on doing. But, even so, she had liked the original length despite the names that people gave her over the coloring and the stares that others had shot her on the street or when she was shopping. Even that time she hadn’t focused on the result that intently (wait, she had quickly added, wasn’t this time something that she could argue was a life or death situation) and she even admitted it did not turn out as she had imagined it and she could barely remember if she even noticed any smells besides the burnt dinner coming from the room across the hall. The one where the wife and husband took turns arguing while whoever was supposed to be cooking tried to cook. 

She sighed, “Marie, you’re losing control of your thoughts again.”

Even so, things felt and just had to be entirely different this time but she found it impossible to put her finger on what about it was so different about it. Maybe she was just on edge. Maybe all of it was different. How “normal” was anything happening to both of them, though? She never remembered needing to change her hair because she could die from being recognized. Usually, it was “I’m bored” or “Huh, my hair feels dry” which caused any changes to be made. She had never needed to abandon all of her belongings though she had been forced to leave larger things that she could not fit into a car or carry herself within a stuffed to the brim bag or two. But, people needed to sell or throw-away items that they couldn’t take when they moved around long distances - there was nothing abnormal about that, but having to leave everything in a car to be found by the authorities and cataloged as if they had been used in a crime? 

After a moment, the woman then began to pull the dark green sweater over her head.

A knock on the door nearly makes her jump out of her skin. She quickly gets the sweater on and then glances into the mirror, taking a breath, and glaring at her face which had now begun to flush.

“Are you okay? You were talking - “

She didn’t even let him finish before trying to give a soft laugh which quickly turned into a simple, “Y-yeah, I’m almost ready. Still getting dressed and I need to brush my teeth. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I said you didn’t need to hurry.”

She merely gave the door a look at that. If it were her, she would likely be close to knocking the door down in order to get moving and try and get some sort of answer or two. 

She started to pull on the dark pants that were still hanging up while she carefully placed the socks (thick and woolen, the kind good for wearing with boots - not that she had any that were without holes from overuse) on the sink. He really had thought of and covered the basics. She finished pulling the pants up quickly and reached for the sock which she then carefully sat on the toilet cover and began to put on - nearly putting on the left sock backward as her movements started to become a little more automatic. 

“We can stop somewhere and get coffee first. I don’t think either of us - “ she had missed the rest of what he was saying.

“Okay, sounds good…”

Then she glanced at the pile of discarded clothes and found herself tentatively calling out, “Um, what should I do with my clothes?”

The door cracked open and hands reached in. “I’ll take care of them.”

She gathered the clothing and started towards the door about to gently place them into the man standing outside’s hands before pausing. She caught a quick glimpse at his face which despite his hands being far enough into the room for her to hand him a few things, he was looking in a different direction as if trying to respect her privacy.

“You know-”

She almost makes a joke about he had already seen her naked, but she decides against it just as quickly. It was almost sweet that he was trying to maintain some sense of privacy as she changed. She would be lying if she didn’t admit to at least thinking that he might be really trying to not hurt more anymore than she already had been. He had been looking out for her or at least that’s what it appeared that he was trying to do.

Instead, she quietly asks, “Are you going to throw them out?”

He glances at her after a moment, looking a little surprised that she was already dressed but he nods, “Yeah. We can get something else later if you want to. But -”

His words trail off as bracing her any reaction.

Marie found herself shaking her head and muttering, “They stand out. Right.” 

There was silence for a moment but before either one could break it, Marie placed the clothing into his hands and backed away from the door which stayed mostly shut.

“I mean, we don’t necessarily have to, but -” His tone wasn’t entirely convinced of his words and she supposed he was trying to be kind. Maybe it had hit him that she had already lost everything within a day.

She shook her head again.

“No, it’s okay. I’m going to miss the shirt. But yeah, it gives them information about me, right?”

“Are you sure?”

She could almost picture him nodding before his question. He nodded a lot now that she thought about it. She was sure that he had when she had spoken. It was disappointing, sure, but it was normal for someone to misplace and have to get rid of old things eventually. She supposed that the time came sooner than she had expected, she had thought that she would have gotten to keep her things for a while longer and maybe in the worst case, she had to toss something that had torn beyond repair or misplaced it on route between two cities or towns. But, what could she possibly do now? 

“No, but I’m following you on this. I don’t know what to do but that… and I thought, well,...”

She picked up the scissors that had been sitting on the sink from the night before and carefully snipped the tags off over the empty trash can.

“Marie?”

“Well, I thought, we didn’t really say it directly or anything, but I thought we were going to -”

She then realized that they had never exactly spoken about everything that happened. He had said what he did know and where he wanted to go. But, she had thought that warning of “Last chance, Marie” meant she had to make a choice. She had more than tossed her lot in by putting on the seat belt.

“I’ll help you,” she paused and then quickly added, “I mean I think we’re both on the same page and we’re kinda, um, together anyway. Then the whole fact I didn’t get up and leave when I could have still. Besides, I, well, it’s not as if I can walk away now, right and you’ve been taking the lead on everything? So I’ll help and I’ll follow what you need me to do.”

**End.**


End file.
